


no pause, no rewind

by caramelle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:19:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: Here he is, twenty-three years old, and — nope. Still no soulmate.It’s a good thing, Bellamy supposes. In the meantime, he can focus on all the other things in his life.Stuff that’s actuallyimportant.Stuff like the upcoming release of the latestHarry Pottermovie.Or, the one where Bellamy's first meeting with his soulmate goes all wrong, but not for the reasons he'd expected.





	no pause, no rewind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cabeswaterblakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabeswaterblakes/gifts).



> **prompt from[Scarlet](http://cabeswaterblakes.tumblr.com): bellarke soulmates au where the first words they say to you are tattooed on your body. person A: I can't believe dumbledore dies! person B: really? at a midnight release, asshole?**
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> this was supposed to be for my 1.5k follower celebration, but it got away from me a little (what else is new tbh) so i decided to post it as a separate fic!
> 
> (title from 'Au Cinéma' by Lianne La Havas)

 

 

 

As far as the whole soulmates thing goes, Bellamy’s never been much of a believer.

 

It’s just kind of hard to see the _point,_ really. His mother didn’t seem to care much when she had him with a guy who wasn’t her soulmate and, as far as Bellamy can tell, took off as soon as he could get his shoes on. She certainly didn’t seem to care much either when she decided to have a second kid with some other random, who knocked her up and got cold feet a mere month before Octavia was born.

 

Unfortunate life circumstances aside, he supposes the bulk of his disbelief stems from impracticality. There’s just too much logistical _baggage_ to worry about. Like, what if this person’s _supposed_ to be the one person meant for you, but they’re already married to someone else? What if you meet your soulmate on some completely off chance in a foreign city, and then find out that the two of you live thousands of miles apart? What if something happens — an accident or an unexpected tragedy or _something_ — that changes who they are beyond repair or recourse?

 

Or — and this is, without a doubt,  _miles_ worse — what if you’re like his sister, Octavia, and all you have written on your palm is a simple _‘hi’_?

 

That’s it.  _‘Hi’._

 

Octavia could literally have a thousand soulmates. That’s fucking _terrifying._

 

(She insists that she’ll _know_ when it’s the _right_ person. The _right_ ‘hi’, out of the _millions_ she’s bound to hear throughout her life. She’s just gonna _know,_ some way, somehow. And _he’s_ the crazy one for being skeptical.)

 

She’s always told him he’s an idiot, simply for having _rational_ concerns. Yeah, well, it’s not like _she's_ ever had to deal with the words _‘Really? At a midnight release, asshole?’_ emblazoned across the inside of her forearm in loopy cursive.

 

“A _midnight release,_ Bell,” she’d say to him whenever he grumbled, grabbing his wrist to point emphatically at the words. “You _know_ where you’re going to meet your soulmate. You know _when,_ too! Don’t you realise how _lucky_ you are?”

 

 _Lucky._ Yeah, right. Tell that to all the mothers tutting disapprovingly at twelve-year-old him, ushering their kids away like he’s got a myriad of other swear words tattooed all over the rest of his body.

 

(Why the _fuck_ did he have to get such a fucking _foul-mouthed_ soulmate?!)

 

And yet, for all his disbelief, it doesn’t quite stop his stomach from turning discomforting little flips whenever he goes to a midnight release for _anything,_ whether it’s a book or a movie or a stupid video game.

 

Even so, here he is, twenty-three years old, with dozens of midnight releases under his belt, and — nope. Still no soulmate.

 

It’s a good thing, he supposes. The longer his soulmate takes to show up, the longer he has to gather rational, concrete evidence against this whole melodramatic affair of a genetic _arrangement._ By the time he _does_ meet his soulmate, he’s pretty sure he’ll be fully capable of presenting a solid argument on why both of them deserve to be let off this _very_ stupid hook.

 

In the meantime, he can focus on all the other things in his life.

 

Stuff that’s actually _important_.

 

Stuff like the upcoming release of the latest _Harry Potter_ movie.

 

“This is stupid,” Miller announces as he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. “We could have just come to see this shit _tomorrow_ morning. Or better yet, tomorrow _afternoon._ You know. Like _normal_ people.”

 

“It’s _Harry Potter,_ Miller,” Bellamy says, shivering through his own coat. “We have to watch it the _second_ it comes out. Do you have _any_ idea how fast spoilers get around with a franchise of _this_ magnitude?”

 

“I know what kind of _geeks_ a ‘franchise of this magnitude’ tends to attract,” Miller says darkly, as a trio of teenagers dressed in scarlet Quidditch robes bustles past the queue they’re currently in the middle of, broomsticks in hand. “Seriously, is the dressing up strictly _necessary_?”

 

Bellamy grins. “It’s all part of the _experience_.”

 

Miller scoffs, but even he can’t help smiling at a gaggle of small children being shepherded past by two very harried looking adults, all of them clad in the signature black of Hogwarts robes, complete with tiny pointed hats. “Yeah, whatever. Baby geeks are cute and all… but they’re still _geeks_.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Bellamy says bracingly, sneaking his hand out of his pocket to give him a quick clap on the back.

 

Miller rolls his eyes, tugging on his beanie reflexively. “The fuck do you care about _spoilers,_ anyway? You’ve already read all the books, like, ten times.”

 

“ _Twelve,_ ” Bellamy corrects, countering Miller’s grumpy glare with a bright grin. “Yeah, but knowing _what’s_ going to happen isn’t the same as _seeing_ it happen. There’s a billion ways they can play it out onscreen.” They shuffle forward with the rest of the queue. “Like, it’s fucking _surreal_ , isn’t it? Seeing stuff happen in real-time like that, instead of just in your head.”

 

“Why shouldn’t that mean it isn’t real?” Miller quotes drolly. “Or whatever the hell it is he says.”

 

Bellamy whips round to stare at him. “Fuck, I totally forgot! I can’t believe Dumbledore dies!”

 

A sharp scoff sounds, slicing harshly through the air.

 

“ _Really_?” a voice demands from somewhere behind him. “At a _midnight release,_ asshole?”

 

He whirls around instantly, brows snapping together in outrage.

 

“Are you serious?” he shoots back hotly, hackles raised. “Read a _book,_ you—”

 

What happens next in his head, he thinks, must be very similar to what happens to a laptop when it freezes up and he has to hold down the power button to force a reboot.

 

_‘Really? At a midnight release, asshole?’_

 

He gapes wordlessly, her voice echoing off the corners of his eerily silent brain, the words starkly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

 

For what it’s worth, the blonde girl standing before him seems every bit as thrown, her blue eyes wide and fixated on his, mouth hanging open as they continue to stare at each other.

 

“Uh,” Miller says cautiously, glancing between him and the blonde. “If this is what I _think_ it is—”

 

Suddenly, the girl snaps into motion. She shrugs her left arm out of her coat, holding it out as she yanks the sleeve of her sweater up to her elbows.

 

Her expression is completely unreadable, but there they are. _‘Are you serious? Read a book, you’_ , printed in _his_ blocky handwriting across her forearm, the exact spot where her words are scribbled across his own arm.

 

Fuck. Is that _really_ how it ended up transcribed? _‘Read a book, you’_?

 

What, has the universe never heard of the _em dash_ before? He sounds like a fucking _idiot._

 

“Okay,” Miller says, brows lifted high. “Well, that definitely _looks_ like what I think it is.” He glances at Bellamy with a frown, prodding experimentally at his shoulder. “Hello?”

 

“Is he conscious?” the blonde asks Miller, briskly tugging her sleeve back down before slipping her arm back into her coat sleeve.

 

“I think so,” Miller reports, waving a hand in front of Bellamy’s nose. “He’s probably just— oh, nope. Here he is.”

 

Bellamy blinks slowly, his gaze drifting over the blonde’s frame before returning to her face. “Uh. Hey.”

 

“Hey,” she echoes, one brow arching, a little expectant, a little annoyed and — if he’s not mistaken — the _littlest_ bit amused. “So. I guess we’re—”

 

“I guess so,” he finishes quickly. He’s not sure why, but he just really _doesn’t_ want to hear the word right now. Not even from her. _Especially_ not from her.

 

She shrugs, the movement light and confident. All the same, he gets the vague impression that she feels just as unsure as he does right now. “Huh. This is… a hell of a first meeting.”

 

He starts in surprise. “Yeah, I—” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t— are you telling me you _haven’t_ read the _Harry Potter_ books?”

 

To his shock, she looks _completely_ nonplussed. “No.”

 

His jaw drops. “ _No_?!” Who the fuck _hasn't_ read _Harry Potter_ ?! It's… it's _Harry Potter_!

 

She folds her arms defensively over her middle, but he catches the slightest quirk at the very corners of her mouth, like she’s faintly amused by his reaction. “To be completely honest, I’d never even _seen_ a _Harry Potter_ movie up until, like, two days ago.”

 

He actually _splutters_ then. “Two _days_ ago?!” He stares at her, eyes goggled. “But _how_ —”

 

She shrugs easily, and, okay, that’s a definite _smirk_ on her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve been _busy,_ I guess.” The smirk widens just a smidge. “You know. Doing things that _don’t_ revolve around fictional magic schools.”

 

His cheeks flare with heat. “Wow. _Wow._ ” He crosses his own arms, planting his feet wider. “Okay, well, what are you doing _here,_ then?”

 

She falters then — by the barest, slightest bit, but he spots it instantly.

 

"Waiting for friends," she says, brushing back a stray lock of hair. It's not exactly _in_ her way, so he's willing to bet that the movement is purely to distract from the hitch in her rhythm. "I'm just holding a spot in line, until—"

 

"We're here! We're here!"

 

Bellamy bites back a smile at the poorly disguised relief on her face.

 

"About _time_ ," she snipes — a little lamely, Bellamy notes — as two boys bound up to her, arms laden down with various snacks and tidbits.

 

"Sorry," the shorter one says breathlessly, looking genuinely apologetic. "Jasper wanted to stop to pick up snacks, and then things got a little out of hand in the chip aisle, and—"

 

"We got into a cool ranch dispute," the lankier one pipes up, balancing three bags of peanuts in the crook of one elbow as he tries to stuff a comically large bag of popcorn into his jacket. "Monty wanted sour cream and onion, so—"

 

"We compromised," Monty finishes, holding up another two large bags of chips. He casts an appraising look at the blonde's snugly wrapped frame. "How much space do you think you have in that jacket?"

 

"Shit, I got space for _days_ ," Miller cuts in before the blonde can answer, his eyes trained hungrily on the bags of chips. "Think you guys can share?"

 

"No way!" Jasper says indignantly, two of his peanut packets dangling precariously over the ridge of his arm. "We're never gonna—"

 

"Deal," Monty interrupts decisively, snatching the peanut bags out of Jasper's grasp to shove them into Miller's arms. "Here, get that zip open, we can hide it in—"

 

He breaks off abruptly, looking between Miller and Bellamy as if seeing them for the first time.

 

"Oh," he says, brows lifted high. "Hello." He turns to the blonde, nose wrinkled in confusion. "Friends of yours?"

 

"No," she and Bellamy both say at the same time.

 

Their gazes meet on pure impulse, both of them looking away within a split second.

 

"I'm Bellamy," he says, just to break the brief bout of awkward silence. He clears his throat, nudging Miller with an elbow. "This is Nathan, but you can call him Miller."

 

"Monty," Monty says readily, catching Bellamy by surprise when the shorter boy reaches out to grab his hand, pumping it up and down in a quick handshake. "This is Jasper. You can call him Jasper."

 

"Or 'king of the mountain'," Jasper says cheerily, a boyish smirk stretched across his face. "Whatever's more convenient."

 

Everyone turns to look expectantly at the blonde.

 

She shrugs. "Clarke." She juts her chin towards the entrance of the theatre. "Also, if you guys are going to hide your stash, you'd better do it quick. Line's moving."

 

"Oh, shit," Monty mutters, grabbing at Miller's arm like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Here, turn this way in case the ushers see—"

 

Bellamy tries to find something to do with his hands as Miller gets tugged over to Monty and Jasper's side of the queue. In the process of Miller practically getting manhandled by their two new acquaintances, Clarke is forced to step forward so that she ends up switching places with him, taking up his place next to Bellamy as Monty and Jasper start stuffing Miller's jacket with bags of peanuts.

 

He swallows, bouncing tensely on the balls of his feet.

 

"So," he says abruptly, glancing sideways at her. "What happened two days ago?"

 

She blinks up at him in surprise. "What?"

 

"You said you'd never seen a _Harry Potter_ movie up until two days ago," he prompts, one brow raised. "What happened to, uh, break your streak?"

 

She opens her mouth, and closes it. Her features quickly arrange themselves into a nonchalant expression. "Oh. Well. Nothing. Just—"

 

"We were playing drinking games in our dorm," Jasper interrupts midway through attempting to squeeze a small packet of gummies under Miller's beanie. "And then we found out she's never seen any of the _Harry Potter_ 's, so—"

 

"We decided to fix _that_ ," Monty finishes, face scrunched in concentration as he stuffs a large Toblerone bar into Miller's back pocket. "We watched all five movies in a row."

 

" _Jesus_ ," Bellamy says, turning to look at her. "In a _row_? I'm guessing that means you didn't hate it."

 

Clarke gives another little shrug, more of a jerk than anything. "It was all right."

 

"'All right'?" Monty echoes skeptically. "You said they were _milestones_ of _cinematic achievement._ You said they were the most important films of our generation. You said—"

 

"Thank you, Monty," she cuts in tightly, eyes narrowed in warning. "Your M&M's are sagging through his belt loops."

 

"I think I'm at maximum capacity," Miller says, his voice a little strained.

 

"Well, well, well," Bellamy says smugly, planting his hands on his hips as he looks down at her. "I'd definitely call that a _glowing_ review. Not bad for a bunch of movies about a _fictional magic school,_ wouldn't you say?"

 

She rolls her eyes, but the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips is _significantly_ bigger than the ones that came before it. " _Silencio_ , asshole."

 

 

* * *

 

 

As far as the whole soulmates thing goes, Bellamy figures, hey, maybe it's not _all_ bad.

 

Especially not when Clarke pops the question to him two years later, as they're in line for the midnight release of _Deathly Hallows_ — _Part 2._

 

(Yeah, go ahead and call them cheesy. At least they're _consistent._ )

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments always welcome! feel free to gimme some Feedback.mp3
> 
> i'm [on tumblr](http://mellamymake.tumblr.com)


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